


Guide Me Home

by cosmic_llin



Series: Right Here By My Side: An Ada/Hecate Pre-Canon Timeline [4]
Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: Awkwardness, F/F, Huddling For Warmth, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 19:03:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16980072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmic_llin/pseuds/cosmic_llin
Summary: Hecate and Ada are caught in an unexpected storm and have to seek shelter.





	Guide Me Home

The storm had come from nowhere. The winter evening had been cold, but the stars had been clearly visible, not a cloud to obscure them. They had been flying home after the Witching Academies Network’s AGM, which they had been attending as proxies for Ada’s mother, who had increasingly been leaning on Ada in matters concerning the day-to-day running of the school.

(Hecate had been surprised, proud and a little scared when Ada had asked her to attend too. They had been good friends for a while now, but Hecate’s _de facto_ status as third-in-command of the school was a fairly new development.)

When they had emerged from the meeting, conditions had seemed ideal for the flight home. It should have been nothing a simple warming charm and wind protection spell couldn’t handle.

And now the wind was screaming around their heads, and sleet was hammering into them, and it was all Hecate could do to keep hold of her broom, keep Ada’s silhouette in her line of sight through the blur, and perform the stabilising spell that was keeping her from being dashed to the ground.

‘Hecate!’ Ada called, and she must have been magically amplifying her voice, because there was no way Hecate should have been able to hear her over the din. ‘Hecate, we need to land! We’ll never make it in this!’

‘I agree!’ Hecate yelled, casting her own amplifying charm, straining to hold the stabilising spell at the same time.

‘This way!’ Ada called.

She pointed her broom downwards – at least Hecate hoped it was downwards, it was so difficult to tell when the sleet seemed to be coming from all directions – and Hecate turned to follow, struggling against the gale.

A sudden gust flung Ada sideways, out of Hecate’s sight. Hecate let out a wordless yell that the wind snatched away, and whirled on her broom, squinting through the dark for Ada. There was no sign of her.

Hecate’s heart beat wildly, and she crushed down panic.

A light spell. That could help. But the glowing orb she conjured could barely penetrate the gloom, and it didn’t guide her to Ada. Hecate closed her eyes, clutching the broom handle tightly, and cast a wobbly seeking spell.

There! Ada was nearby. Hecate followed the thread of the spell, pouring her magic into it until Ada came back into view, still fighting against the storm.

‘Ada!’ Hecate called.

Did she even know Hecate was there?

‘Ada!’ she called again, performing the amplifying charm once more.

Her stomach lurched, and suddenly it became abundantly, horrifyingly clear which direction was down. She was falling. What had happened? Where was her broom?

She had lost her grip on her broom.

She tried a spell to slow her descent, but there was nothing left, she’d used it all fighting the storm. She had no idea where the ground was, but it had to be coming up fast.

She’d hoped to do so much more. She’d have wished to see Ada’s face one last time.

And then something grabbed her, a sharp shock, and for a moment she seemed to be falling _up_ , and then she was drifting gently downwards, or as gently she could while still being battered by ice-cold darts of water. And then, oh, the ground, muddy and cold and wet and _safe_. She lay there for a moment, gasping for breath, and then she looked wildly around for Ada – surely it was Ada who had saved her. Had she kept anything back to save herself?

The orb she’d made was still giving off a faint light, feeding off the magic she’d used to create it, but it might not last much longer, and then the darkness would be total. She had to find Ada, while she still could.

Ada thudded to the ground close by, much less gently than Hecate had descended but not hard enough to kill her, Hecate hoped. Oh, she hoped.

‘Ada?’ she called, crawling towards her.

‘Oh!’ Ada gasped, rolling over and leaning up on her elbow.

It was hard to tell in the dark and the rain but it looked as though Ada was crying. The sight made something ache beneath Hecate’s ribs.

‘Oh, Hecate, I thought for a moment I hadn’t got you, it was so hard to tell! Are you injured?’

Hecate assessed briefly. She felt thoroughly battered but nothing actually _hurt_ , exactly. ‘I don’t… I don’t think so?’ she said. ‘Are you?’

Ada sat up. ‘No, I…’ and she broke off, face contorted with pain. ‘Actually,’ she said, ‘I think I may have broken my wrist.’

‘Here, let me…’ Hecate began, then trailed off. She had no magic left, nothing to even soothe the pain, let alone repair the break. ‘We… we should find shelter,’ she said instead.

She looked into the dark storm, trying to tell something, anything about where they had ended up. The grass and mud beneath them suggested a field or a park, but there was little else to go on.

‘Can you get up?’ she asked. ‘If I give you my arm?’

‘I think so…’ Ada said, and it was hard to tell over all the noise, but Hecate thought she sounded faint.

Hecate helped Ada up, and the two of them struggled forward in an arbitrary direction, peering into the darkness.

‘What’s that?’ Hecate said.

It was a darker shape against the darkness of the night, and as they drew closer it turned into a low structure, a hut with three full walls, half of a fourth, and a corrugated iron roof – a horse shelter, perhaps. Hecate guided Ada into the driest corner and eased her to the cold dirt floor. The wind was scarcely quieter in here, but it didn’t buffet them so much, and at least it kept the sleet away.

Hecate was soaked. Away from the immediate panic of the storm, she realised that her clothes were sodden and muddy, her hair pulled from her bun in wild, wet tangles. Ada was much the same.

‘How’s your wrist?’ Hecate asked gently, coming to kneel beside her.

‘It’s… not too bad if I keep it still,’ Ada said, but her face was pale.

‘Do you have any magic left?’

Ada shook her head. ‘I used the last of it…’

‘…saving my life,’ Hecate finished. ‘Oh, Ada, I’m sorry…’

‘Don’t you _dare_ be sorry!’ Ada said fiercely. ‘As though I’d rather you’d died than me have a broken wrist! Don’t be so silly.’

Her teeth chattered as she spoke. It was so cold. And Hecate felt as though her soaked garments were dragging what little warmth remained from her body. Ada must feel the same. They had to get warm somehow. It was hours until dawn, and without magic they had no way of getting help.

In the dim light, she looked around the shelter. There was a rail on one wall, and hanging from the rail was what looked like a blanket. She got up and inspected it – it was indeed a blanket, and although it smelled a bit horsey it appeared to be dry.

‘Ada…’ said Hecate, looking at the floor, ‘I think… I think we ought to both take off our clothes and get under this blanket to stay warm. We’re at risk of hypothermia.’

‘Oh!’ said Ada. ‘I… yes, I suppose that would be sensible. Good thinking, Hecate.’

She moved to unbutton her cloak, and hissed with pain. Hecate darted to her side.

‘Your wrist,’ she said. ‘I… should I… let me help you?’

Ada nodded, her eyes closed.

Hecate’s fingers were stiff with cold, but she fumbled with the buttons until they came free, and hung the cloak over the rail where she had found the blanket. Ada’s cardigan was soaked through, and Hecate eased the sleeve as carefully as she could over the injured wrist.

‘I’ll make you a splint,’ she decided. ‘That might help a little, at least.’

A brief search near the door yielded a couple of sticks, and she tore a strip from the bottom of her own dress for a bandage. It was a clumsy effort – when was the last time she’d had to do something like this without magic? – but it might do at least until they could get proper medical attention. Ada was quiet through the procedure, but Hecate noticed her biting her lip.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’ll try to be more gentle.’

‘You’re doing fine,’ said Ada, her eyes closed.

‘Perhaps… you should take off your boots?’ Hecate suggested, once the splint was finished.

‘Good thinking,’ said Ada. ‘My feet are like blocks of ice.’

Hecate knelt and worried at the wet laces until they gave in, and then Ada pulled the boots off one-handed, and her long woollen stockings.

That only left her dress.

‘I… the buttons are at the back, I’m afraid,’ said Ada. ‘I don’t think I can…’

‘It’s all right,’ said Hecate.

She shifted around and unbuttoned the dress, trying not to look any more than was necessary to complete her task. How many times had she imagined this moment? It had never been like this. In her dreams she could kiss Ada’s shoulder as she went, she could look her fill without it being a betrayal. And when she was finished, Ada would turn around and pull her close and…

No! How could she even be thinking of it, when Ada was hurt and needed her help? She reached the end of the buttons and pushed down the dress so that Ada could step out of it.

She helped Ada wrap herself in the blanket, blinking away tears, then turned her back to take off her own clothes, as though that would make some kind of difference. Once she wore nothing but her undergarments, she hung everything up, going slowly in spite of the bitter cold, putting off the moment that would inevitably arrive.

‘Hecate…’ said Ada. ‘I know this is terribly awkward, and I know how much you value your privacy and your space. I promise you, once this is over we need never speak of it again. But you can’t just stand there in the cold. Come on in.’

She was being selfish. Ada needed what little warmth she could give. And what difference did it make, so long as she never, ever found out how Hecate felt about her? This might be a matter of life and death. In the scheme of things, Hecate’s heart was of the slightest importance.

She got under the blanket.

‘Come closer,’ Ada said. ‘It’s all right.’

Hecate shuffled nearer so that her front was pressed against Ada’s back, and she thought she heard Ada sigh as they touched.

‘Am I making you cold?’ she asked. Ada was already warmer from her few minutes under the blanket.

‘Not at all,’ Ada said. ‘We’ll both warm up soon, I’m sure.’

They lay there for a few moments, saying nothing. Hecate had no idea where she should put her arms. She wanted to wrap them around Ada for warmth and for comfort – Ada offered her a friendly hug, now and then – but was that inappropriate now? Who knew, in this situation? She didn’t want to cross a line.

The thin light from the orb faded away at last. The darkness was total.

‘I…’ Ada began.

‘Yes?’

‘If it’s an imposition… I wouldn’t…’

She fell silent.

‘Ada, what is it?’

‘Perhaps you could put your arm around me? I think perhaps it would help keep me steady…’

‘Of course,’ said Hecate.

Well, that was that question answered. She slowly wrapped an arm around Ada, trying not to touch her in any way that could be considered provocative – as if there was a brisk, professional way to hug your mostly-naked colleague. She pulled Ada a little closer, shifting to get comfortable. Her face burned, and she was glad that Ada couldn’t see her expression.

‘We should be careful not to fall asleep,’ Ada said. ‘Isn’t that what they say? You shouldn’t fall asleep if you’re at risk of hypothermia?’

‘I’m not sure,’ said Hecate. ‘It seems wise not to take the chance.’

‘We should talk,’ said Ada. ‘To distract ourselves. Um… from the cold, I mean.’

‘Yes,’ said Hecate.

She wasn’t sure she could successfully hold a conversation right now, but it was worth making the attempt, if it would help her not to think so hard about how soft Ada felt against her, of how good she smelled. Of how much Hecate wanted to brush her lips against the back of her neck.

‘What shall we talk about?’ Ada asked.

‘Well, we are overdue a discussion on the school’s financial records…’ Hecate said hesitantly. Thinking of things to talk about was not her forte.

‘It’s supposed to be something that _won’t_ put us to sleep,’ said Ada.

‘Oh,’ said Hecate. ‘I’m… I apologise, Ada, I…’

‘I’m just teasing, Hecate,’ Ada said. ‘I’m sorry. You’re right, we do need to discuss it, but I’m not sure I can concentrate properly with my wrist hurting this much. Could we talk about something a little lighter?’

‘Of course,’ said Hecate. ‘Um…’

She and Ada talked all the time. They chatted over pots of tea for hours. Why couldn’t she think of anything to say?

‘Have you… ever… been to Scotland?’ she asked desperately.

Where on earth had that come from? What did that matter? Oh, she was hopeless.

‘Not for many years,’ said Ada, as though Hecate hadn’t done anything the least bit odd. ‘I spent a while travelling, when I was younger, and I explored the Highlands extensively. Have you?’

‘I spent a few months there during my teacher training, at a school in Edinburgh,’ said Hecate.

‘And did you like it?’

‘I wasn’t certain at first, but I grew quite fond of it. I’d like to return someday. There never seems to be a good time.’

‘I barely saw Edinburgh, only passed through it briefly.’

‘I think you’d enjoy it, if you were there long enough to properly explore.’

‘Will you tell me about it?’ Ada asked. ‘What would we do, if we went there? I’m not… I’m not saying we should go, just… imagining it will help pass the time.’

Her voice sounded strained, as though it was an effort to talk through the pain. If hearing Hecate talk would help, even a little, then Hecate would talk until she was hoarse.

‘We’d fly there, of course,’ she began. ‘We’d land at the top of Arthur’s Seat on a sunny day, and walk down into the city.’

And she told Ada everything – where they would go, what they would see, what they would do, dredging up every memory of her few short months to find things that Ada might enjoy. City walks down cobbled streets, and museums, and the castle, and gardens in the snow.

‘And then where do we go next?’ Ada asked, when Hecate had run out of Edinburgh.

Hecate grasped for the first idea that arose. ‘Um… Copenhagen?’ she said.

She’d never been there, but she’d once read a fascinating book about its witching history. It was enough to sketch out the basics. And when they ran out of Copenhagen, she moved on to other places, cities she had been and some she hadn’t.

‘And then where?’ Ada would ask, and Hecate would tell her, inventing wildly from half-remembered magazine articles and pictures she had seen. Occasionally Ada would chime in with a suggestion of her own, so that Hecate was reassured she was still awake.

Hecate couldn’t remember the last time she had talked for so long. And she found herself not wanting to stop. This reality she was weaving, where she and Ada travelled the world together, just the two of them, going wherever they pleased – it was beautiful. Much better than this cold, dark shed where the rain drummed against the ceiling. In that fantasy world, she could lie this close to Ada, but instead of on a damp dirt floor it would be in a neat little hotel room that was theirs alone.

Ada shifted just then, moving against Hecate with a tiny moan.

‘Are you uncomfortable?’ Hecate asked.

Ada sighed. ‘A bit,’ she admitted. ‘My wrist hurts however I lie. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to whine about it…’

‘Not at all,’ said Hecate.

It had been some time now since their crash landing, and she could feel the flicker of her magic beginning to renew itself.

‘Perhaps I can help?’ she said. ‘I don’t think I have enough magic to completely heal the break, but I could probably manage to ease the pain a little.’

‘Hecate, you don’t have to…’

‘I’d like to. Please?’

Ada nodded. ‘All right.’

With care, the two of them shifted position so that they were sitting against the wall, still inside the blanket, and Hecate gently took hold of the injured wrist, pushing her magic into it.

‘Oh,’ Ada said when she was finished, ‘I can’t tell you how much better that feels. Thank you, Hecate.’

She let out a long, tired sigh, and leaned her head on Hecate’s bare shoulder. ‘I’m so glad we both made it,’ she said, almost in a whisper. ‘For a moment earlier I thought you had… I don’t know what I’d…’

‘It’s all right,’ said Hecate calmly, even though her heart was about to beat itself through her ribcage. ‘We’re both safe. And soon it will be morning and we’ll find the way home.’

For a moment they were silent. Hecate felt as though there was something huge and unnameable in the air between them. Then Ada reached out and took Hecate’s hand with her good one.

‘Do you mind?’ she asked.

Hecate shook her head. ‘Not at all.’

‘I’m just glad you’re here,’ said Ada.

After a few minutes she fell asleep, her cheek pressed against the curve of Hecate’s neck. Hecate wasn’t worried by it – Ada’s breath was deep and steady, and inside the blanket it was warm and safe. She would come to no harm now. Hecate stayed awake. to keep watch, just in case.

They sat that way until the sun rose and the rain stopped.


End file.
